No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.

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"I've gotta admit, I don't like this, Colonel," Kinch said, as he watched Hogan pull a black turtleneck shirt over his head.

Hogan winced briefly as the action stretched muscles and wounds that were still healing. "I'm not thrilled with it either, Kinch, but this is the way it has to be."

"I wish you'd let at least one of us go with you."

"No," Hogan said. "And no shadows this time, either," he added, eyeballing the Sergeant. "This time I go solo. For real."

Kinch nodded and lowered his eyes to the floor. "Right, Colonel."

Hogan registered the unhappiness on Kinch's face and softened his tone. "I appreciate your concern, I really do. But if Eichberger turns out to be a real live Kraut, I'd rather he capture someone he already knows about. There's no point in him getting everyone."

Kinch nodded. "I know."

Hogan went out into the common room and reached under Newkirk's bunk for the face paint. "Eichberger's promised no surprise bed checks tonight," he said. "So I should have a smooth run out of here. He doesn't need to be near the tunnel exit, not yet, so we're meeting at the woodshed outside camp. I can only hope his dynamite is as good as yours, Carter."

Carter frowned. "If he's not an expert at it, Colonel, it could be dangerous stuff! I mean it's not like my stuff." Hogan smiled. Only Carter could conceive of a situation where dynamite wasn't dangerous.

"Don't worry, Carter. Eichberger's supposed to be using some of this stuff himself. I hardly think he'll use anything that he could accidentally blow himself up with."

"Well... just watch yourself," Carter said, grudgingly.

Hogan paused in his preparations to regard the Sergeant. "Thanks," he said seriously. "I will."

Le Beau spoke up. "What's the plan if something goes wrong?" he asked reluctantly.

Hogan didn't miss a beat. "Close up shop and get out." He took a moment to give his command stare to his men. He rarely did it, but when he did, Hogan's crew knew he was dead serious, and they didn't dare disobey. "One sniff that anyone is selling us out and you burn everything, collapse the tunnels, and run. No heroes. Got it?"

"What about Klink?" Newkirk asked.

"Take him with you if you can. He's still got information we need." Hogan handed the paint to Newkirk. "Okay, it's time to go. I'll see you fellas later."

"When should we start to worry?" Kinch asked, trying to sound light.

"When neither of us shows up for morning roll call. Because if I don't come back, I'm going to make darn sure Eichberger doesn't make it back, either."

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Hogan very slowly and carefully poked his head out through the tree stump that was the end of their tunnel. Pulling the lid down as a light from the guard tower swept over the lid, Hogan took a deep breath and waited, then plunged into the night when the beam's circle was focused elsewhere. He looked all around him as he made his way to the appointed rendezvous, then hid in the scrub near the perimeter of the forest and waited for a sign of his contact.

Hogan spent some time watching his breath appear in white streams before him, and registered the cold uncomfortably. Then a sudden movement nearby moved his attention to the shed, and he watched intently as a figure appeared, carrying something. Hogan scanned the area; the person seemed to have come alone.

A light birdcall broke the stillness. Hogan returned the call and emerged cautiously from his hiding place, appearing at Eichberger's side so silently that the Captain actually jumped when Hogan drew himself up to make contact. "Hogan—you did come."

"What did you think—that I'd let an opportunity to mess up the Krauts' plans slip by?" Hogan looked for a gun in Eichberger's hands. There was none. Then his gaze slipped to the bag Eichberger had put on the ground. "What's in the pack?"

"Dynamite. Grenades. Some fuses—I wasn't sure what you would want to use. You're the expert, after all. I'm here to learn from you."

"Well the first thing you need to learn is that flattery will get you nowhere. And staying out in the open will get you killed." He nodded toward the darkness of the trees. "Let's get moving. We need to get to the roadside along the convoy's route. You know where it is. Take us there."

"Right." Eichberger sounded almost like an eager child as he picked up the pack and started striding toward the trees.

Hogan pulled him up by the arm. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he asked. He crouched down low and pulled Eichberger with him as a light from the camp made its circuit overhead. "You can't just waltz around out here. Pay attention or you'll get us both shot!" He advanced toward the body of the forest at half-height and in absolute silence. Eichberger tried to follow suit; Hogan could hear a couple of footsteps, but nothing that couldn't be passed off as general sounds of the woods. So far, so good.

Finally Eichberger took the lead and in a short time he and Hogan had reached their destination. "The convoy is scheduled to pass by here at two o'clock," he said.

Hogan looked at his watch in the dim light. "It's after one-thirty now. We'll have to get this stuff ready to go." He gestured toward the bag. "Let's get started."

Hogan let Eichberger open the pack and start removing the contents. Neat, professional-looking explosives soon piled up around them. Carter would approve, Hogan thought with an inward chuckle. "Nice stuff," he commented.

"It's all good quality, Colonel. Nothing that can accidentally go off and get either of us killed," Eichberger said pointedly.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Hogan replied dryly. "Have you got a gun?"

Eichberger looked startled. "A gun?"

"A gun," Hogan repeated. "Something to have out in case a patrol suddenly shows up and wants to make short work of us."

"Oh," Eichberger said, relaxing. "No. I didn't bring one."

Hogan let out a disgusted breath. "Great," he said. He pulled his Lugar out of his pocket. "Here, hold on to this," he ordered, practically shoving it into Eichberger's hands. "And make sure the safety's on while you've got it pointed in my direction."

Eichberger looked at the weapon with some surprise. "Colonel Hogan—where did you get this?"

"Don't ask questions," Hogan replied. "And next time think ahead. What makes you think everything's going to run smoothly all the time?"

Eichberger looked properly chastised. "Sorry, Colonel. I'm new at this."

"You won't have a chance to get old at it if you keep this up."

"Sorry."

Hogan let an uncomfortable silence sit between them as he went to work at organizing the things Eichberger had brought with him. Hogan had to admit that the Captain was certainly playing the role of novice agent very well. Taking Carter's advice, Hogan didn't rely on Eichberger to prepare any of the explosives; he could only trust what he did himself.

Finally Eichberger broke the silence. "Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan paused only for a second, and looked Eichberger. Then he looked away, seemingly absorbed in attaching a fuse to a stick of dynamite. "What?" he replied curtly.

"Why did you give me this gun?"

"I told you—to make sure we're covered while we're doing this. You can't leave things to chance."

"I know that," Eichberger replied. "But I mean, why did you hand it to me? It's clear you don't trust me yet. Why give me a weapon?"

Hogan didn't look up from his work. "Because for all I know you have half a dozen goons surrounding us right now, waiting to shoot me at the first sign of espionage. If you're going to do it, you're going to do it." Eichberger took on another startled look. "At least this way, if you're on the level, you can keep watch for those same types of goons, and use the weapon for good instead of evil." Hogan stopped. "You do know how to use the thing, don't you?"

Eichberger nodded. "Oh, yes, Colonel. An expert shot."

"Good. Okay, this is finished; let's go."

"Let's go where?"

Hogan sighed. Maybe this Eichberger was exactly what he appeared to be—a greenhorn. "We have to move in closer to the road so when the trucks come by we have a chance of lobbing some of this stuff into them."

"Oh. Right."

"Come on." Hogan led the way to a secure area in the scrub. Once there, he took the gun back from Eichberger and hid it in his clothes. Then he held up a lighter and some dynamite. "Think you can handle this?" he asked. "Or would you rather go with the grenades?" Eichberger gulped and didn't answer right away. Hogan nodded. "Right; you go with the dynamite. At least you'll have a chance to throw it before it blows up in your face." He handed the incendiaries to the Captain. "These are set with one minute fuses. You light them, you throw them, you get the hell away. Got it?"

"Got it."

All that was left now was to wait and see if Eichberger's information about the convoy was correct, and if Hogan would make it home to tell the fellas either way.

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Bunks creaked and blankets shuffled as Hogan's men tried to wait out the time their commander was away without driving themselves mad. Due to the time of night, they had turned out all the lights, so as not to attract any unwanted attention from the guards, but that left them with very few options.

Kinch had considered heading downstairs to the tunnel, but he knew Klink was sleeping there and he didn't want to have to deal with the Kommandant's incessant questions if he woke up. What he really wanted was a crossword puzzle. A small square of mysterious words that would eat up his time, and make him concentrate on something other than the worry eating away at him. He tried to imagine Hogan at his cheekiest, an attitude that always made the Sergeant feel like everything would turn out all right in the end. But somehow now the image wouldn't come, and he could only picture the determined look on Hogan's face as he headed out. "Never say die, boys," he had said, when they first questioned him about the possibility of getting the operation fully functioning again. Funny, Kinch would have thought after all he'd been through that Hogan would be perfectly happy to head back to London. But then, that wasn't the Colonel. He was never one to simply sit back and let the war slide by without having his say in its outcome. Kinch lay back on his bunk again and sighed. Sleep wouldn't be coming tonight.

Le Beau rolled over on his mattress above Kinch and tried to think about what kept him here. It wasn't the food, that was for sure. No matter how well he disguised the food with extra treats bought on the black market, or how he manipulated the Red Cross packages to their best advantage, the food was still cardboard. It wasn't a love of fighting; though he was passionate about his homeland, and would do whatever it took to defend her, it was always with a slightly sad heart that he went about his duties outside the camp, knowing that it could be the last time any number of people saw their families. It wasn't even a sense of duty. Colonel Hogan had given all of them the opportunity to leave, with no stigma attached. Le Beau himself had more than once said he was leaving the operation, to go back to France and fight in his own way. No, it had to be something else. And it finally dawned on him what it was: Hogan himself. No other leader he had encountered had ever been so persistent, so dedicated, so willing to put himself in the thick of things. True, Le Beau had had compassionate people to work with in the past, but Hogan was different. He said little, thought a lot, and backed up his words with action. And if there was danger to face, he didn't try to hide it or make it seem less than it was; he was honest with his men, and in turn, they were honest with him, and they trusted him, trusted him with their very lives. And he had shown that he trusted them as well. And now he is out there without us, with someone none of us trusts. Le Beau rolled over again, and listened for the signal that would mean Hogan had come home.

Carter lay flat on his back, staring up at the slats on the bunk over his head, and ran through all the chemical equations he could think of. Every piece of scientific knowledge he had was being bandied about inside his brain. He moved his lips as he silently worked out formulas, crossing out mentally when he made a miscalculation, and starting again from scratch. His mind drifted to his lab downstairs, where he concocted some potions that no one wanted to know about, but everyone was happy to use. That made Carter happy; people trusted him with something important, really important. That had not been the case very often before he came to Stalag 13. He could still remember when they had received their first drop of nitroglycerin: he and Colonel Hogan had gone out to get the stuff together, and Hogan had been stunned at the knowledge Carter had about the substance and its storage. And when everyone else had run away during its unpacking, Colonel Hogan had stayed nearby, even though Carter could tell he had been nervous. Trust. What a gift Hogan had given him. And now, with Hogan out of camp with a man about whose allegiance they were all still uncertain, Carter wondered if he would ever get a chance to thank him.

Newkirk frowned as he punched his mattress, trying to move the lumps to a less intrusive location. Bloody Krauts, don't know the meaning of a decent night's sleep. He dropped back down heavily. Who was he kidding? He wasn't going to be getting any sleep anyway. Not with the gov'nor out with Eichberger. Why did Hogan have to go out alone anyway? Why wouldn't he let them follow, in case anything went wrong? You've answered your own question, mate—in case anything goes wrong. Officers. Had to show they were in control all the time. No, Newkirk corrected himself, he knew it was different with Colonel Hogan. The only time he insisted on the privileges of his rank was when he was concerned about the safety of his men. And then he seemed to ignore his own rank and do the hard work himself. Like tonight, Newkirk thought. Stubborn. He considered for a moment, then adjusted his thinking. No, not just stubborn. Protective. You won't let us do anything you wouldn't do. He sighed and sat up again, knowing he would be wasting his time closing his eyes. But we'd have done this for you, gov'nor.... And if I wasn't so sure you'd be more offended by me disobeying your orders, I'd be out there with you right now, proving it! He reached under his mattress for his desk of cards, and in the darkness started to deal himself a hand.